(Last year, after the death of General de Gaulle, Satprem’s friend Y.L. had met André Malraux at Verrières; he immediately asked her, “Is the Mother still alive?” As Y.L. was a little taken aback, he added, “I went there before you, 33 years ago…. So I assume you know what they have been looking for in India….” Again a few days ago, Y.L. met André Malraux after his cry “Volunteer for Bengal”; he said to her, “What is essential in the fight I’m going to wage for Bengal is to know the attitude and action of Pondicherry.” Y.L. therefore came to put the question directly to Mother. Mother asked, “When is André Malraux meeting Indira Gandhi?” “In November, in Paris.” Mother again asked, “When is André Malraux thinking of coming to India?” “I don’t know.” Then Mother remained absorbed a long time and said, “He will only get THE answer when he arrives in India, because the answer is in him.” After meeting Indira Gandhi in Paris, André Malraux will renounce his plan of action. Let us note that when Y.L. met him, he leafed through the Auroville pressbook and said, “All this is familiar—I’m part of it—I know this.” And closing the book, “It’s as if the sun had risen. And it goes down…. And we begin again….” Y.L. simply replied: “And what if the sun has risen for good?”)
[These notes are taken from Y.L.’s travel diary.]
Well, then?
Do you know that Y.L., whom you saw a few days ago, met Malraux in Paris and gave him my article on Bangladesh, and “On the Way to Supermanhood”? And this morning I received a note from Malraux.
Ah!
A card. It’s nice. He simply says:
“Many thanks for ‘On the Way to Supermanhood,’ about which one of our mutual friends had spoken to me—thank you also for thinking of sending it to me.”
Good….
He said you were “my son”!
Oh!… Well, that’s not completely wrong.
I said it’s true! (Mother laughs merrily)
It seems he has a lot of authority over there?
Oh, indeed a lot, and not just in France, but all over the world. If he says something, it’s a world event!
Oh, then that’s good.
So I thought I would send him a little note …
Yes.
… in which I would tell him this:
Dear Mr. Malraux,
I was very touched by your note thanking me for “On the Way to Supermanhood.” Some fifteen years ago, in this Ashram, I was teaching French classes to the young Indian disciples, and I tried to tell them who Malraux was, whose work I admired—today they remember and, like me, are moved by your intervention on behalf of Bangladesh.
The problem is deeper, of course, as you well know. What is at stake at the end of the present mental cycle is the creation of a new man—that is what we are trying to do here with the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. Great Forces are at work here, in a humble way. And I am happy that “Supermanhood” did not leave you insensitive. Indeed, its cry needs you and your capacity to grasp the profound Sense of our human crisis.
May the Force of Sri Aurobindo and Mother be with you.
Fraternally with you in the great Work to be accomplished.
That’s good, that’s very good!
If a man like that were directly touched by you, it would be a fantastic help. Two words from that man, and the whole world listens.
Oh!
(Mother goes within for a long time)
What do you say, Mother?
I say nothing.
(long silence)
I speak less and less.
Yes, Mother….
Only, all the time the Force is going like this (gesture of unrelenting Pressure). It’s pressing on Matter for the transformation.
I don’t know, I feel the hour of great changes in the world is approaching.
Yes, yes.
I mean visible things.
Yes. And the Force is going like this very consciously (same gesture of pressure), very consciously. In the smallest detail as well as on the whole, very consciously.
When I am like this (gesture of being motionless and interiorized), I am simply conscious of that Force (same gesture of pressure), and then sometimes, a particular point (gesture of a ray being aimed) or a detail goes consciously through… through the personality (I don’t know how to say it), and there it’s… it seems irresistible: curing someone, even getting a thief arrested (!), things like that. It’s strange.
It’s curious.
And more and more (Mother touches her hands) impersonal.
***
September 29, 1971
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